


It's Hard When It's For Real.

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Mummy, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Mild Language, Sad, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six long minutes; three hundred and sixty anxiety filled seconds as he prepared to face the wrath of Mummy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mummy Attacks.

**“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!”**

The shout echoed up the stairs of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock gave a shuddering groan and stuck his pillow over his head, and then pulled the sheets up for good measure. Mere bed linen is no defence against an irate mother, especially when that mother is Mummy Holmes. In one swift movement the sheet, pillow and a chunk of Sherlock’s hair were ripped away. The pyjama clad detective sat up, rubbing his now sore head.

“Mummy!”

“Don’t you whine at me in that tone! Now get dressed and get out here to explain yourself.”

With that the maternal fury left the room and stormed the living room. Chairs and sofas offer as little resisted as bed linen, so Mummy would be entrenched in seconds. Sherlock groaned again. For an instant he considered the window as a means of escape.

“Don’t bother climbing out of the window.”

Sherlock frowned at this display of motherly mind reading and crept to his window. The cheery face of John Watson smiled up at him from the alley. There two men engaged in a silent exchange that would have caused an observing lip reader to blush. With a final colourful gesture Sherlock admitted defeat in this skirmish and slouched towards his wardrobe to dress for the real battle.

Quarter of an hour later saw Sherlock dressed a simple dark blue suit. In actual fact he had been dressed for the past six minutes. Six long minutes that had seen him pacing back and forth in his room; three hundred and sixty anxiety filled seconds in which he had tried to get himself prepared to face the wrath of Mummy.

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration and winced as he caught the tender spot caused by his rude awakening. Finally he stood before the door and squared his shoulders.

“Get a grip. She’s Mummy, not Moriarty.”

Ignoring Mind Palace Mycroft’s derisive snort of laughter, Sherlock stepped out into the line of fire.

“Good afternoon Mummy. To what do I owe the…”

The forced bravado wilted and died under the intensity of Mummy’s glare. His shoulders sagged and, since Mummy was in his chair, he sat on the sofa. This left one chair clearly empty; the chair formally labelled as John’s; the chair that had in recent months had gathered a new label.

“Sherlock, please tell me why darling Molly Hooper spent last night crying on Mary Watson’s shoulder.”

Sherlock huffed.

“She’s a ‘darling’! That a bit rich. She walked out on me Mummy!”

“Did that maybe have something to do with you being a complete cock, son?”

Sherlock frowned at his Father, who had bumbled into the living room with two cups of tea. One was handed to Mummy, who took it with a loving smile; the other he started to drink as he sat next to his sulking youngest son.

Sherlock dropped his head into his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He’d have to check with John, but he was sure that most parents didn’t get this involved in the love lives of their grown offspring.

“Tell us what happened, Sherlock.”

He knew he was lost the second Father asked the question. If Mummy had continued her interrogation he could have parried with intellect, but for reasons he’d never understood Sherlock had no defence against Father’s gentle kindness. With a heart broken groan Sherlock got to his feet and stepped on the coffee table on the way to the mantelpiece. It was a childish gesture of defiance, but he’d be damned if he was going down without a fight. 

The silence stretched as he fiddled with the skull. In a sudden burst of movement he twirled around to face his parents, his eyes trying to avoid looking at Molly’s empty chair.

“I was trying to propose! I said I couldn’t imagine a woman ever taking my name, especially her.”

Father put his head in his hand, but Mummy was nodding.

“Molly has a well-respected body of published work under her name. Obviously you wouldn’t expect her to take the family name for professional purposes.”

Sherlock didn’t get a chance to thank Mummy for understanding because Father cleared his throat with intent. There was brief communication between his parents that apparently employed some sort of eyebrow code. Eventually Father looked at him.

“Son is that exactly what you said to her?”

“That’s all I had the chance to say before she called me an ungratefully arsehole and ran away.”

Father nodded and took in a deep breath.

“Not good at all Sherlock. Molly must have thought you were breaking up with her.”

Sherlock’s brow creased into a frown as he replayed the scene in his Mind Palace. Mummy and Father both smiled at the look of sudden realisation lit up his face like a crime scene lamp.

“Oh bugger. What do I do Father?”

“You’re in for an awful lot of grovelling, son.”

Sherlock charged to the door, grabbing his Belstaff on the way, and flew down the stairs to Mrs Hudson’s flat.

“John! I need you.”


	2. The Plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, how is it you can fake propose perfectly, but you screw up the real thing so badly?"

“John! I need your help. Hello Mrs Hudson.”

As he had deduced Sherlock found John drinking tea in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. He tuned out the disapproving tutting from his landlady and grabbed his friend’s shoulders.

“John, I need to fix things with Molly. I need your help. Now.”

John raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. It took Sherlock a second to catch the intended meaning. There had been many recent conversations about manners. The Watsons didn’t want Mina picking up bad habits from her godfather. Unfortunately this particular stare probably had more to do with the little speech that John had written for him when he’d scoffed at the idea of needing relationship advice. Damn. He carefully released John’s shoulders and smoothed the crumpled jumper back into place. As he took a step back he cleared his throat.

“John. I have caused Molly, my girlfriend, to be upset. I’m a great big idiot. Could you help me fix the mess I’ve made? Please.”

Doctor Watson rubbed his hands together in glee.

“See was that so painful?”

“Agonising. Can we go and save my relationship now?”

“Lead on.”

“Honestly all this fuss, Sherlock. Go and buy that dear, sweet girl some flowers. She’s a saint for putting up with you, I don’t know...oh.”

Mrs Hudson sighed as she realised she was talking to an empty room, but upstairs wasn’t empty. She gave a little giggle as she toddled up the stairs for a nice long chat with the parents Holmes.

 

[][][][][][]

 

The urgent rush to leave 221B lost momentum once they hit the pavement. John shrugged his coat on as Sherlock frantically paced up and down.

“What’s the plan Sherlock?”

The lanky man stopped in front of him.

“Grovel.”

John waited for a moment.

“What that’s it?”

“It’s more of an outline than a plan at the moment.”

John looked down at his feet for a moment. Once he’d finished questioning his life choices, (the short Sherlock edition), his head jerked back up and he frowned his friend.

“You realise you’ve left Mrs Hudson in the house with your parents?”

It was possibly a bit not good, but John took a second to fix Sherlock’s look of horror firmly in his mind. The detective visibly gulped. 

“Angelo’s?”

“Angelo’s.”

The two men fell easily into step as they headed towards their favourite restaurant. If they were walking rather quickly, it was just a strong desire to get out of the chilly air. It was not a hurried escape. Neither of them had much spare breath for talking until their reached their destination.

“I suppose you called my parents.”

“Nope; that was Mary.”

“I’m lucky she didn’t rush over here and shoot me. Again.”

“Actually I was considering shooting you this time.”

Sherlock frowned as he held the door open for John.

“I don’t know if that’s reassuring.”

They stepped into the welcome warmth, and as if by magic Angelo appeared.

“Sherlock. John. Your lovely ladies not joining you today?”

“Just us two Angelo.”

“Just like old times, hey?”

Angelo grinned and waved them to their usual table. John gave Sherlock a second to get settled before he asked;

“So, how is it you can fake propose perfectly, but you screw up the real thing so badly?”

A glimmer of hope flared in Sherlock’s eyes.

“Did Molly know I was trying to propose?”

“God no! The state she was in when she called Mary I thought someone had died.”

John’s insides squirmed as the glimmer of hope died. Sherlock fiddled with his water glass. 

“How is Molly?”

John saw through the nonchalance that Sherlock was trying to employ and straight to the nervous panic that had its claws deep in his friend. It occurred to him that things must be bloody bad if he could read Sherlock so clearly.

“Confused. Crying. Hurt. When Mary left her this morning she was curled up in bed.”

Sherlock groaned as his head thumped onto the table. With perfect timing Angelo arrived with their usual order. As he put the plates down he gave John a questioning look. John just shook his head and the man left them too it.

“Sherlock eat something.”

They ate with varying appetites for a few moments; John digging in with gusto and Sherlock mostly doodling patterns in the pasta sauce and taking the odd mouthful.

“What I don’t understand is…”

John paused, expecting a scathing retort from his friend. When nothing came he took another bite of pasta as cover, chewing and swallowing quickly before continuing;

“Why she’s so upset. Molly’s normally brilliant at translating Sherlockese to English.”

“I don’t know. It’s so frustrating. I can’t think around Molly. I just want her to be happy and that interferes with even basic deductions.”

“Welcome to dating mere mortal style.”

“Schadenfreude. You’re enjoying my misery, John.”

“A little, but I can help. Grovel. Apologise. Beg. Make a romantic gesture; something simple, so it doesn’t blow up in your face. And in your case, maybe write down what you want to say, so you don’t balls it up. Again.”

Sherlock’s face broke into a delighted grin. It was the wide eyed smile that normally heralded a rapid fire deduction, a chase across London and John having to hit someone. The blogger sent up a rapid prayer that whatever that mad genius was plotting, it would have a calmer outcome than that.

“John. John. You are brilliant.”

“Yes. I am. Why exactly?”

Sherlock had bounced to his feet and was heading out of the door before John had even finished speaking.

“Finish eating John. I have things to do!”

As Hurricane Sherlock left the building Angelo ambled over to the table.

“Himself is looking happier than when you came in. Nice juicy murder?”

“That is a man on a mission of the heart. Keep your fingers crossed, Angelo.”

“And my toes John.”


	3. Actually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes all out to win Molly back.

It was getting dark by the time Molly dragged herself from her bed and then she only got up because Toby was insisting on being fed. She shuffled into the kitchen, pointedly ignoring her mirror. She knew she looked like broken hearted mad woman, so why bother make herself feel worse? 

“You won’t break my heart will you Toby?”

She watched as her cat happily munched his food. Molly gave a sniffle and sighed.

“Who am I kidding, you’d be off like a shot if someone offered you food, wouldn’t you?”

Toby licked the last crumbs from his bowl and sat back on his haunches to clean his whiskers. 

“Crazy cat lady. Now is that better than being Morbid Molly, or poor doormat Molly?”

Toby, his whiskers now clean, rubbed up against Molly’s legs and purred. She gave him a watery smile and picked him up.

“Looks like it’s just going to be you and me cuddling on the sofa, Tobes.”

She’d just got settled on the sofa and dug the telly clicker out from under the cushions when the doorbell rang. She considered pretending she hadn’t heard it, but her gentle nature got the better of her. It could be Mrs Clark from next door, the poor old dear was for ever locking herself out and Molly held a spare key for her. As Molly slouched down the hallway she muttered to herself;

“At least it won’t be Him. He doesn’t know I’ve got a doorbell. Just barging in with his swoopy coat …”

She looked through the peep hole and gently banged her head off the door.

“Of course it’s Him.”

She was about to shout something rude, when she heard the music. She recognized it instantly; Sally’s Song from ‘ _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ ’. Intrigued she took another look through the peep hole. Sherlock still stood there, but now he holding a large white cardboard sign in his hands. 

“ _Please open the door._ ”

Molly drummed her fingers against the wood of the door. This was a novel approach for Sherlock, and it showed some thought. Her fingers had drawn back the chain before she’d realised it, so she went with it and open the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

Sherlock gave her a shy smile and started turning the rest of the cards over for her to see.

“ _Thank you Molly._ ”

“ _I am sorry I made you sad._ "

“ _Please Please forgive me Please._ ”

“ _I can sometimes be a dim as…_ ”

Molly choked back a snort of laughter at the picture of Anderson on the next card.

“ _I love you as much as you love…_ ”

The next card was a collage of kittens, Tim Burton films, the Addams Family, colourful jumpers and rainbows.

“ _I love you as much as I love…_ ”

This card was edged with crime scene tape and filled with question marks and corpses.

“ _For you I want to be as good a man as…_ ”

John Watson smiled at her from the next card.

“ _I’d never expect you to take my name because of…_ ”

Molly’s gut clenched at the painful memory that was yesterday, but that feeling melted into puzzlement as she saw the next card held images of her published articles.

“ _What I was trying to say was…_ ”

Sherlock paused and took a quick deep breath before revealing the final card.

“ _Will you marry me?_ ”


	4. Marriage.

“ _Will you marry me?_ ”

Silence stretched. Sherlock felt every second landing between them, building up a wall that would separate them forever. He tried to shut down the panic rising like bile inside him; he tried to keep his trembling knees firm. He was ready to beg, what he wasn’t ready for was Molly’s laughter.

The look on his face was enough for Molly to fight the giggles down. 

“I never thought my life would turn into a rom com!”

She opened her arms to Sherlock. With one swift step Sherlock fell into her embrace, the seconds of silence that had divided them scattered in the face of Molly’s repeated answer.

“Yes. Yes. Yes”

 

[][][][][][][]

 

“John, is that your phone going mad?”

John walked up behind Mary where she stood at the sink, her hand deep in the bubbly water. He slid one arm around her waist and held his phone in front of her so she could read the messages on the screen.

“Start writing a speech John – SH”

“Molly said Yes – SH”

“Tell Mary immediately – SH”

“Molly doesn’t want me getting shot again – SH”

“I’ve told her the criminals might not adhere to that wish– SH”

“John - Sherlock will as you properly to be best man tomorrow. I’m switching his phone off for the night. Thank you both –MHx”


End file.
